


the 6th sense

by kumofu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Cuddling & Snuggling, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kumofu/pseuds/kumofu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gorgeous. It doesn't even begin to describe what I really mean. What I see."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the 6th sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the gorgeous man I wake up with every morning](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+gorgeous+man+I+wake+up+with+every+morning).



> Second story of my 30 day OTP challenge. Destiel - cuddling somewhere
> 
> Comments are very welcome :)
> 
> Song to the story: Steve Holy - good morning beautiful

A hint of sunshine floods through the curtains, warm enough to tickle Dean awake. It's not too bright but he still lifts one arm over his face to cover his closed eyes. He wants to start one of his senses after the other. 

First he listens to the birds outside and notices the sound of cars in the distance. But it's nothing that matters right now, because he has no intention of leaving. Instead he catches another sound. Breathing. Not his own. It's a sweet gasp, then silence and finally air pouring out in a weak sigh. For him, it's breathtaking. He turns to the sound, leaving the sun behind, but keeps his eyes still closed. He wants to touch now. 

His hand inches towards the unknown until his fingertips make contact. Soft. Warm. He likes it. This feeling cannot be confused with anything else in the world. It's skin. He gets carried away a little bit, fingers trailing curiously, confirming that there is so much more to explore. His body urges for this, it follows the warmth he can feel. 

When he's close enough there's the next sensation, a scent that doesn't belong to the simple existence of the room. It's special, inviting, enchanting. His nose is forced to follow it to the source while he intoxicates himself along the way. He finds more skin, more warmth and distracting hair. He nests his face in this glorious mixture, suspiring the scent of crushing waves, the wind before a storm and sticky honey. It's a quite mouthwatering discovery, urging him to taste next. 

He opens his mouth and moves closer, but punishs himself with restraint. Just one pleasure now, so only his lips get to touch luring skin. With small steps he moves kiss by kiss and feels tiny hair. He allows himself to bait it with careful taps of his tongue so it would stand up, rewarding himself with a rumbling joy in his stomach when it does. 

Although Dean is quite occupied, he hears the change in breathing from his target. Then there is movement, a body turning under his hand. The air swirls, dispersing the scent he's so drawn to, while his tongue clinges to the fading taste of skin. The loss could sadden him, but he gains something better instead. A voice.

"Dean?"

His body swells with excitement and while all his other senses shut down, his eyes demand to be opened. He does it slowly, highly valuing the moment, his eyes still cast down until they adapt to the light. Then they go up, taking pictures of sheets under faint sunlight, a body under the sheets and a face still under the spell of sleep. A face he became accustomed to adore. He gives himself a moment to just savor the sight, again one sensation after the other. 

Blue eyes too colorful to be real, not fully opened to fight the light like Dean did seconds ago. Furrowing brows showing the unanswered question and a hint of confusion with the new day, while shaping the whole mien as cheeks, nose and chin stay relaxed, their emotional fate not decided yet. Tousled hair threatens to disturb the peace and quiet by provoking Dean to reach for it, pat and grab, pull and twist, entwine strong fingers with weak strands of velvet, leaving behind an even greater mess. 

On the verge of doing so, Dean is set back by one thing. Pleasant shaped, luscious and out of this world adorable lips. He's always torn between rather hearing them whorship him or whorship them himself, but right now seeing is enough. It's a sight to behold and it creates his first smile of the day when he leans over to his still sleepy bed companion.

„Good morning, gorgeous.“

His heart skips a beat when he's rewarded with a weak but true smile in return and he gets to hear again. Delicious rumbling waves of sound.

"Hey handsome."

His smile grows wider and he allows himself to touch. His fingers trail over temple and cheek and even further down until those lips take everything away from him again. He sighs.

"It's not enough, you know?"

"Hm?"

Instead of a real answer white teeth start to teasingly nibble on his fingertips. It's more than just distracting but he manages to get the words out.

"Gorgeous. It doesn't even begin to describe what I really mean. What I see."

While he is quite serious and upset about this, he just gets another smile.

"So Dean Winchester is unable to elicit the human tongue his desired description. The art of narrating properly is not for everyone. One can be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of possible words."

Dean doesn't mind to be schooled in such an amused manner because a promising response comes to his mind.

"You're one to talk."

His words are met with curiosity. "Why?"

Memories rush to Dean's mind and he tries to focus on the spoken words and not the salacious pictures. "Let me think. What were the words you used?" He takes a deep breath and moans the words rather than say them. "More, Dean! More. Please."

There's a low chuckle from his target. "I might have said that."

Dean grins. "Yeah, you might have."

He faces a provoking smile. "What else?"

Dean falls into more moaning. "Yes. Deeper. Like this. You feel so good." He stops so he wouldn't get too excited himself. "I guess you weren't so silver-tongued yourself yesterday."  
An even wider smile shines up to him. "Seems that way."

"Maybe you were overwhelmed."

"Not by words."

Dean laughs. "Definitely not words. So I won?"

No one said they were playing a game but he wants to force a reaction. It starts with another smile. "No, you didn't."

"Why not?"

A tongue travels slowly over sweet lips, its owner caught in consideration. "I remember something else I said."

Dean loved everything he heard last night and he doesn't mind to hear it again. "What?"

As a little tease for Dean, the words are spoken exactly like the day before. "I can make you come first." 

A thrilling heat washes over Dean but he has to laugh anyway, his heard filling with joy. "Yes, you said that." He grins wider. "And, oh yes, you did."

The thought eclipses everything else and he gives in to all the sensations, not caring about the different senses anymore. He needs now what he wanted to do the second he woke up. This time those lips don't stop him but drive him. Drive him insane and make him whish he could kiss them forever.

 

It's not excactly forever but hours later when they finally manage to breake apart, exhausted and almost unable to catch their breath. Dean sighs. „That was … what you did there … that was out of this world.“

„You wanted me to be more silver-tongued, right?“

Dean chuckled. „You missunderstood that one, honey, but I don't mind. Not at all.“ 

He rolles over, taking his sleepy-again bed companion in his arms, getting as close as possible and with one deep breath he lets all senses chrush into him. He touches this warm body, smells this lovely scent, hears this calm breathing, tastes this delicious skin on his lips and after one blink it's like he can really see for the first time in his life. He sees his future and his heart knows more than his body can comprehend. He can feel a connection, a bond that can't be broken. Neither by heaven nor hell. There is this truth no one can take away from him and that will always show him his way back. A sixth sense.

„Dean?“

„Hm?“

„Sam said that there was no way that anyone could ever make Dean Winchester cuddle.“

Dean doesn't answer. They're snuggled together in an almost physically impossible way and he feels home, happy and relaxed. Maybe for the first time in his life. He can't bring himself to argue about that. His silence is answered with a question. „So I won?“

Dean smiles, his embrace tightening and he only manages three low spoken words before he falls asleep.

„Shut up, Cas.“


End file.
